Harry Potter and the Swooping Snitchbug
by Strawberry Pocky Stix
Summary: And this, Kiddies, is why we never, ever, ever mix Care of Magical Creatures and Quidditch. Inspired by Chuggaaconroy, crack? OC monologue of factualness


**... I am thoroughly convinced that I WILL be hunted down and shot for this one...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Series, nor the Pikmin series. Harry Potter rights go to J. K. Rowling, Pikmin rights go to Nintendo.**

_7:00 AM in Farmington on a Monday mornning... No coffee... no sleep... *dies*_

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><p>"Hagrid," Paris began, voice laden with curiosity and confusion. "What in Merlin's name is that thing?" She pointed to the large insect looking creature that was buzzing about his home. Harry, beside her, looked up at it.<p>

"Yeah, I was wondering the same thing." He agreed. Arias and Hermione were each taking photos with Paris' camera when Hagrid began to explain.

"That," He began. "Is Elazar. He's a Swooping Snitchbug." Kitsune looked at it for a little while.

"…Care to elaborate for us uneducated on the subject?" She prodded.

"The Swooping Snitchbug, or Scarpanica kesperens, is part of the Scarpanid family," Arias began to explain with a little grin, fixing her glasses and reciting the facts like a textbook. "It's a round, legless insect. It has no wings, but the large antennae on its head allow it to fly around." She approached them with a textbook, shoving the picture in their faces. "They seize their prey in these claws, and after a few seconds, throw them to the ground." With that, she darted off again.

"For example," Hagrid stated. "A ball! Elazar!" He threw the small blue ball in the air, and Harry watched as precision claws grasp it from the air. Elazar carried it around for a few moments before chucking it down. Harry laughed out loud when it struck Kitsune hard in the head.

She rubbed her head in pain;

"OW!" Then she shot a glare at the Gryffindor; "Shut up, Potter!" Harry just pet the Slytherin's back good-naturedly.

"Sorry, but I can't help that he doesn't like you."

"Belt up!"

"You know," Arias began. "Scarpanids originally lived on the ground. They had poorly developed wings that couldn't even hope to hold up the creature's body weight! They don't seem to kill anything intentionally, as I'm sure that its failed blunt-force trauma on Kitty was purely accidental." The New Hampshirite huffed, crossing her arms over her broomstick.

"Observations prove that their skin acts as a plant's leaves would, achieving Photosynthesis for itself and placing the Swooping Snitchbug as a photoautotrophs; an organism that can create its own food." She took a well-needed breath. Then she smiled.

"Truly fascinating creatures, Swooping Snitchbugs. There are Several species of Snitchbug, including Scarpanica doofenia; The bumbling Snitchbug or the Exposing Snitchbug." She began talking a mile a minute, her accent making it even more difficult to understand (To Kitty, at least).

"They express similar behaviours, but Bumbling Snitchbugs capture people as opposed to animals and objects. They were given the name 'Exposing Snitchbug' as the wizard who discovered them stated that anyone to get caught by one is clearly and idiot, since-"

Paris and Harry sighed, tuning the girl out as Hermione listened intently, taking notes. The two seekers looked at each other before mounting their brooms and taking off toward the Quidditch Pitch.

They looked at each one another, then back over at Hagrid's hut before sighing.

"Ravenclaws." They muttered, diving down to the pitch to meet their teams.

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><p>Within the hour, the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams were gathered on the Pitch, the rest of the school gathered in the stands and towers.<p>

"**Welcome to the Semi-Finals of the Quidditch Season! This is the third and final game between Slytherin and Gryffindor!" **Isaac Patterson's voice came pleasantly over the loudspeakers. **"Tied one-to-one, this game will determine who faces off against Hufflepuff in the final match of the season!"**

Applause and Cheering erupted from the Hufflepuff stands.

Harry flew toward Kitsune, stretching out his hand. She took it with a grin;

"Good luck, Potter." She stated.

"Good luck, Paris." He replied.

"**The seekers shake hands as they prepare for the game, and Madame Hooch enters the field!" **

Indeed, Madame Hooch had entered the field and was opening the ball chest. She held the Quaffle in her hands and looked at the Gryffindors.

"As always, I expect a nice, clean game." She stated, turning to the Slytherins. "From all of you."

She let the Snitch out, and it flitted before Paris, then Potter;

"**The Golden Snitch has been released. Fist seeker to Catch this wins the game for their house!"**

A few moments later, the Quaffle was tossed up-

"**The Quaffle is released, and the game begins!"**

-and the chasers lunged for it.

Gryffindor seized it first, and dove toward the Slytherin hoops.

The Bludgers were released next, the Beaters from each team keeping them expertly away from the Keepers, Seekers and Chasers.

Harry and Paris were each circling the Pitch in different ways; Potter high, Paris low. Each was searching for- what else?- the Golden Snitch.

He caught a glimpse first thirty minutes into the game, and locked onto the Snitch. His broom dove toward it, chasing it up, down, around and back up.

Paris had quickly caught on and was hovering just above him, robes billowing out behind her.

His eyes stayed trained on the Snitch, and his arm reached forward when he felt he was close enough. Paris dropped below him and farther back, but still within good range to jump in, should he miss.

His tongue stuck out in concentration, clenched in his teeth as he stretched for the Snitch.

It was so close, he could almost feel the smooth surface…

Then, in a flash of green it was gone.

"What the Bloody Hell?" He yelped, bringing himself to a stop. He blinked as he head Isaac call out-

"**The Swooping Snitchbug is on the field! This creature chases after weak animals, and inanimate objects, picks them up, and throws them away. By Unanimous vote, it has been agreed to unleash the Swooping Snitchbug for this game, and the finals, and will be used in future years. Good luck, teams!"**

-And he deadpanned. Paris stopped her broom beside him and gently forced his mouth closed. Her eyes followed the Snitchbug in disbelief as it chucked the Snitch toward the Ravenclaw tower.

"You have got to be kidding me!" She called, glaring at the creature. Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in annoyance.

"This is going to be a long game…"

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><p>Ten hours.<p>

_Ten bloody hours._

_**Ten bloody hours of straight Quidditch.**_

About hour six, it'd started to rain, and hadn't let up until about hour nine and a half, and even then it was humid, so they were still sopping wet. The Gryffindor boys filed into the showers, sore and tired, but satisfied.

When Paris' broom suddenly had begun failing (A worry she'd expressed to Potter in hour five), it sent her crashing to the muddy ground. The broom had flown into the Snitchbug, knocking it away far enough and long enough for it to start chasing after the moving Quaffle. Harry'd taken the opportunity and snatched the Snitch from the air.

He'd flown down to see if the other Seeker was all right, to which she just stood, brushed herself off and replied; _'Been better, been worse'_ with a smile.

Then he'd held up the Snitch in victory, and retrieved her broom from the cloth of the Gryffindor tower, where it'd been wedged.

Gryffindor would face Hufflepuff house in two weeks, and for that, they were happy.

Well, that, and it was fun to watch whatever Slytherins were sore losers sulk and mutter under their breath.

He smiled in self-satisfaction as he remembered Malfoy's expression to Paris' broom failure causing him to win. He'd really have to invest in a camera- moments like that were just too good to miss.

His soaked-through robes slipped from his body and landed with his gloves and boots. As he went to remove his undershirt, a voice caught him;

"Caught a lucky break today, huh, Harry?" The named lowered the shirt and looked over at the new Keeper, Emile.

Emile was a tall guy with (usually) neat brown hair and brown eyes. He was also a transfer student, like Paris, form Florida.

That might explain why they were such good friends; they got the jokes and slang that no one else quite got.

Nonetheless, Harry smiled a bit at him and removed his shirt;

"Heh, yeah… If Paris' broom hadn't gone wonky, I think that would've gone on for a lot longer."

"No doubt in my mind." Harry looked over at him, and Emile tried to desperately hold in a laugh. He drew his wand at the Seeker's obvious puzzlement and summoned a mirror from one of the other bags.

Black hair was sticking up every which way. And he did look comical. He grinned and shook his head like a dog, Making Emile shy away from the stray droplets of water;

"Hey, watch it! I'm already soaked!" He yelped. Harry just laughed. So the other continued with the old conversation. "But yeah, that game lasted way too long, anyhow."

"Longer than any of the others this year." Harry replied, stepping into a shower stall.

"Exactly." A few minutes later, he heard the next stall over start up. "And this, Kiddies, is why we never, ever, ever mix Care of Magical Creatures and Quidditch." Emile commented, speaking as if he were adressing a very young potions class. "It simply must not be done." Harry chuckled, and just for good measure, added one last thing.

"_**Ever**_." **  
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><p><strong>This is for you Chuggaa! (I say this like he'll actually see it PFFFT-)<strong>

***Hides under her rock***

_**Reviews are love, and flames just kindle the fire in which I bake my Pocky~**_

_**~StrawberryPockyStix**_


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